


the high road is hard to find

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Cinco de Mayo, M/M, Pining, Romance, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick guesses this is his “third strike, you’re out” in the Jonathan Toews friendship book and he doesn’t know how to remedy that.  He doesn't think he deserves the chance, to be honest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the high road is hard to find

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this story had been jossed halfway through but I managed to work it out. A million thanks to zarathuse who provided suggestions, advice and essentially whipped this thing into shape. Huge thanks to altri_uccelli for fantastic, speedy beta. 
> 
> Title by Broken Bells.

In million years, Patrick never would have expected radio silence from Johnny after his public disgrace. Yelling, yes. Judgemental breathing and stares through the phone, absolutely. But a week passes and then another and nothing. Patrick’s sisters are giving him the same treatment, but they’ve been doing that his whole life when he does something dumb. To be fair, Patrick hasn’t exactly texted or called Johnny either. He’d typed out five different variations of hello before deleting them all. Sharpy’s commented already publicly, the only teammate who has, and Kaner feels unworthy of it. He’d fucked up, big time. He’s been living in a cloud of self-hatred for every fucking thing he did and Sharpy shouldn’t be saying he “loves” him in interviews.

Patrick had the world’s most awkward Skype call with Stan and Rocky a few days after Deadspin broke the news. He’d half expected them to flat-out inform him they were shopping him around but instead they just told him to remain in Buffalo, try not to get into trouble, and perhaps look into some “options.” Stan ended the call saying he was disappointed. It had been the second time in twenty-four hours he’d been told that, more or less. The night before, his mom had said he was behaving like a rich, spoilt, fraternity kid. She concluded the talking-to by saying, ‘This is the first time I’ve ever been truly ashamed of you, Patrick.”

He’d felt tears well up in his eyes and his lip quiver. And yeah, he full out cried right there and his mom had hugged him but it felt stiff instead of warm, the caress dripping with disappointment. Patrick imagined that’s what it would feel like with Johnny, if Johnny were actually talking to him.

__________________

Patrick mostly hangs around his mansion, contemplating his role as once again the laughing stock of the NHL. He knows he should avoid the internet entirely but he looks long enough to see he’s been the subject of a photo contest, a meme, and a new drinking score; even his douchebag cousin texts him to say he’s getting “Patrick Kane Wasted” tonight.

It didn’t go down exactly the way it was reported, aside from him being a dick in general to women and treating them like “pieces of meat” (Jackie’s words). Patrick is now well aware of how ridiculous the shirt was. In retrospect, he never should have put it on after his friend made it. As his father said, “Really, son, you literally went out with a bullseye on your back. Are you actually surprised?”

The more serious allegations were essentially fabrication or blown out of proportion, from what Patrick can remember. He doesn’t know if Johnny’s out there there on a lake somewhere, believing it all, but he hopes he’s not.  
_______________________

Johnny’s basically been everything Patrick hasn’t been able to be. He’s the blueprint Patrick would follow for life if Patrick had actually cared. He followed him for hockey, though. When Johnny was out, it was his duty to step up and he made sure to, but he also had to step up off the ice. He didn’t realize how hard it was to do what Johnny did with the media. Reporters never used to talk to him after every single game and suddenly they’d wanted to, even though he didn’t wear an ‘A’. He wanted to prove he could do this, though. So maybe he’d watched one or two or a dozen of Johnny’s post-games to get in the mindframe. In doing so, he’d realized two things: 1) Johnny was ridiculously good with the media, passionate, patient where Patrick would often let his annoyance and boredom show on his face. 2) He was ridiculously hot after games. Patrick hadn’t really noticed before. He normally just tried to wind down afterwards and hadn’t paid too much attention. He was the same before games, as well.

It’s one of the reasons he’s never gotten the whole ‘gay guys in the locker room’ fear. Patrick deems himself an equal opportunity fucker but he doesn’t check out guys there; it seems like there’s always something else to be concentrating on. He’d probably be the same way if it was co-ed. Okay, well, probably not because that would just be an unusual situation and he’d probably have to look. Alright, so maybe he used to check Johnny out when they were rookies but that was only because he wanted to figure out the guy’s deal.

(Admittedly his theory was full of holes, but whatever.)

Patrick recalls the way Johnny was back then. How he’d seemed like a stick in the mud at first until he went out with everyone about a month into the season and Patrick realized he was more awkward than anything else. He was still lame and serious and shit, but not all the time. He enjoyed a good club, good food, laughing at Sharpy’s stupid dirty jokes, and checking out girls, yet in a polite manner. That part, Patrick didn’t really understand. Even back then it was clear Patrick hadn’t been emulating Johnny as his life model. Perhaps he’d be better off now if he had.  
_________________________

Patrick ends up going to a bar in Buffalo, but one with an older crowd that’s mainly guys. There are a few girls there, however. The next day his friend tells him he made it onto that stupid message board. All Patrick did was buy her a drink; he wasn’t even interested. Apparently, though, buying drinks equals sex. The thing is, he loves buying drinks. If he can spare it, spread it, is his philosophy. He holes up again after that and wonders for the millionth time what Johnny is doing. Probably fishing or something. He’s over a month into this radio silence and practically itching in his own skin. He hasn’t really been drinking, instead smoking up a bit while at home. He figures it can’t get him into too much trouble. The internet is abuzz with trade rumors and he feels sick, even though he deserves it at this point. He texts Sharpy one day when he can no longer stand his own thoughts, asking, _Has Johnny said anything about me?_

_Nope_ , is the reply. Patrick would love to knock back a shot of the Johnny Walker Blue that’s still in his cabinet but goes for a run instead. When he gets back he decides to internet stalk Johnny, just to make sure he hasn’t had a concussion relapse while practicing his 9 iron or something.

It’s a little insane how much he can find out about the last month or so of Johnny’s life. He finds out he stayed in Chicago for a bit, went golfing with Soupy, and go-karting with that chick Patrick never liked. He really hopes Johnny isn’t hooking up with her. He never liked when she’d climb all over Johnny at Club Paris. Johnny never really engaged her much in public; he would be polite but always looked slightly put-upon as well when she’d crawl into his lap. Which always led him to believe Johnny wasn’t all that into her. Patrick would give her the stink-eye and she’d give it right back. Patrick knows he's more jealous than he has any right to be, but dammit, go-karting was fun and carefree and Johnny was doing it with someone who wasn't him and -- shit, maybe he _did_ like her. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much. After all, Johnny looked ridiculous in the photo he took with the kid, decked out in full riding attire and sporting his stupid hair.

He finds more pictures, this time from Winnipeg of Johnny getting golf lessons (the guy really never takes a break) and posing with more fans. By the time Patrick gets to the Canadian Tire event he realizes how damn happy and relaxed Johnny looks, like he hasn’t a care in the world. It makes something ache inside him. He watches a video of Johnny’s press conference for the Player’s Cup and halfway through starts jerking off to his fucking plaid shirt and his fucking amazing (okay it’s not stupid) hair and since when did Johnny wear _bracelets_. He feels out of touch with everything . The thing is, it’s not like they’d actually be seeing each other right now anyway, but it was usually pretty clear that they _could_ if they wanted to. Patrick’s not sure if he even has the right at the moment. He comes on a low whine, letting Johnny’s voice wash over him. He’s missed it, dammit.

The next day he sits down on his couch, kicks his feet up, takes a big hit, and thumbs over the keys on his phone.

He starts typing out something along the lines of _if the rumors are true you won’t have to deal with me anymore_ but then realizes how passive aggressive it sounds and regroups. What he came to realize between last night and today, watching Johnny live it up in fantastic Winnipeg without so much as a glimpse of unhappiness, is he probably wrecked this whole thing, for good this time. Johnny’s been mad at him before, and not just over the taxi thing, or the limo thing (he really needs to stay out of vehicles), but really, really mad yet he’s always expressed that with anger and he’s never intentionally gone for this long of a period without talking to him.

He knows the way Johnny feels when it comes to maturity and public appearance and just -- making good life choices in general. Patrick guesses this is his “third strike, you’re out” in the Jonathan Toews friendship book and he doesn’t know how to remedy that. He doesn't think he deserves the chance, to be honest.

When it comes down to it, he simply types out _I’m sorry I’ve fucked up to the point that I’ve ruined our friendship_ and hits send, his palms sweating.

Johnny’s response comes two minutes later. _So am I._

He knows Johnny’s voice would be low, serious, and a little sad. Patrick’s heart clenches.

_This is it, then?_

Trust Patrick to have what’s probably the most important discussion of his life via text.

_I don’t know_ is Johnny’s response. Patrick can hear the heavy sigh in it.

It’s better than a full-out ‘no.’ Patrick will take what he can get at this point.

_You still gonna be able to play with me?_ he asks, because honestly, he needs to know.

_Of course, you idiot_. It’s ridiculous that Patrick’s missed that so much.

He gives in to his own vulnerability and voices his concern because this is Johnny and he needs to. _If I’m even there._

_You probably will be_. It’s not overly encouraging. The part of him that’s daily punishing himself is almost happy.

_They say anything to you?_ he asks Johnny.

_Just because I’m captain, doesn’t mean I’m told shit like that. You know that._

He does. He just needed to ask. Mostly because he wants to know if _Johnny_ has talked to them at all. Johnny doesn’t disappoint.

_We talked about the situation. They wanted to know if I had any information about you to share._

Patrick winces. The whole organization seems to think he’s an alcoholic. Even if he was, he probably wouldn’t admit it. That seemed to be some sort of rule or something. He went on a bender is the thing, and honestly, if they hadn’t gotten knocked out of the playoffs that way it probably wouldn’t have happened. It’s a weak excuse, but it’s sort of true. He’d been pathetically licking his own wounds and he ended up cutting himself with a butcher knife.

For long seconds, Patrick’s not sure where to go from here. It’s like he can physically feel his friendship with Johnny slipping away. To be honest, they probably never should have been friends, never would have been if circumstance hadn’t led them together. He didn’t expect to get a five-year friendship out of this, the best he’s ever had, and definitely one he took for granted far too often.

_Can I make this better?_ he finally types out. There’s a long silence before his phone buzzes.

_I really don’t know. I sort of don’t even want to look at you right now. You seem to take one step forward and two steps back, Kaner, and I don’t know how to deal with it anymore. Don’t know how to call that person from that weekend my best friend_.

Patrick gets ready to respond but his phone buzzes again.

_I thought we’d grow together, you know? We dealt with something at the same time that was unique and we went through it with each other. But sometimes I think you’re still that rookie, Patrick, and that’s not where I am._

Patrick sucks in a breath, feeling his eyes sting a little. He’s sure the younger guys on the team don’t care about it much; Shawsy had already texted that he wants one of those shirts to frame in his room. It’s the older guys he’s been really worried about in terms of disappointment, and Johnny. And the thing is, if the rookies _aren’t_ upset with him, that’s -- not what he wants either. He doesn’t _want_ a free pass and he doesn’t want to be that rookie again, even though he guesses he still is. At least in Johnny’s eyes.

_I’m sorry. For all of it_ is all he can say.

Johnny responds with _I need some time right now. Take care of yourself._

Patrick snorts and really, really wants to close his hands around a beer. He makes himself a stupid protein shake instead and watches Breaking Bad on netflix. Anyone’s life looks considerably better when compared to Walter White’s.

________________________

A week later, after Patrick has replayed his conversation with Johnny over and over, he starts second-guessing it all; wondering if maybe Johnny really _is_ sitting out on a lake somewhere, believing everything that was alleged.

He knows he’s supposed to be giving Johnny time and all, but he can’t stop from texting him.

_you know nearly all that deadspin stuff was bullshit, right? i mean, i was being an asshole but I’d never choke a girl or anything like that. It was like, a joking headlock, like we do with the guys, but she freaked for second._

Johnny texts him back immediately.

_Yeah, I know. That’s not what I’m mad about._

Patrick feels slightly relieved but then once again goes back to replaying his conversation with Johnny (which is actually incredibly easy as he’s saved all the texts) and zeroes in on the part with, _but sometimes I think you’re still that rookie, Patrick, and that’s not where I am._

Well, fuck.  
___________________

Patrick starts to kick up his training a bit; he spends a lot of his time swimming in his indoor pool (because yes, his new house is ridiculous like that) and on the bike in his personal gym. He figures Johnny would be proud of that last part but then again, it probably won’t matter much soon. Johnny’s sporadic texts and emails to him have mostly been work-out routines now, or news on the CBA which Patrick could obviously find himself. It’s the type of stuff you’d send someone you aren’t overly interested in conversing with, but you still thought of them enough to share. In return, Patrick sends back texts of things he finds interesting, or the latest viral craze on youtube, and naturally every Call Me Maybe parody there is, including the Arrested Development [macro](http://iwastesomuchtime.com/on/?i=33020). Johnny responds back to those with _I hate you_ and he knows Johnny will be singing it in his head all day.

Patrick spends the week of the draft basically in a cold sweat. Johnny apparently goes to the CBA negotiations in Chicago. Patrick knows because he decided to keep his internet stalking to a manageable, less creepy level from now on: google alerts and that’s it. He’s greeted by a picture of Johnny, tanned and perfect looking, lips so red you’d think he’d been kissing for days non-stop. He also gets informed that Johnny has been ‘texting Kaner his and the team’s support.”

Patrick wants to laugh at that, but he can’t. He knows it’s a sound bite, he knows Johnny was directly asked, obviously, and he knows that the word ‘disappointed’ has already been thrown around with management and therefore, Johnny’s not about to single handled say it again so that the media can have a frenzy. No, Johnny was being the perfect supportive captain in that moment, telling a white lie for the sake of the team and as much as Patrick wishes it were true, he also knows he doesn’t deserve it to be.

He finds some more quotes, all of which sound closer to Johnny’s current real feelings:

_"He's been through some tough things. It's arguable whether those things happened for a reason or not, but he's still learning."_

_"Now people are looking for that sort of thing and it tends to be easier for them to find it."_

_"I'm sure he's being very hard on himself right now, but with time it will go away again and he'll focus on hockey again."_

It’s all so incredibly Johnny it’s ridiculous, especially about ‘things happening for a reason’ and ‘focusing on hockey’ which sounds like a challenge if Patrick’s ever heard one.

He reads more.

_"No doubt Kaner has that personality and people are drawn to him. He's an interesting guy. I don't mean that to be funny or anything."_

Patrick’s so inexplicably charmed by the last part. He can just picture a reporter snickering or starting to laugh and Johnny being so serious, saying his piece.

_“There's a lot of 23, 24 year old kids out there having a great time and don't have to worry about that sort of thing -- and he does."_

Patrick sighs and wants to text Johnny -- something, he doesn’t know what. In the end he refrains. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t seem appropriate. Especially since the words feel like challenges to Patrick’s innermost psyche, and fuck, he wants to take them. Wants to show Johnny he can be the type of person he wants him to be -- that he _can_ learn, and grow.

The rest of the week, leading up to July 1st, all he can do is work out and force himself not to drink. He doesn’t go out, and he nearly has trouble keeping his protein shakes down. He doesn’t get traded, at least not in the initial frenzy and when it seems like things are dying down, he breathes a small sigh of relief and goes to his pool. In his tenth lap, he dives underwater and it hits him like a ton of bricks -- the only thing on his mind this past week or so has been the thought of no longer being with Johnny. Even though maybe he’s already lost him, not having him in his life in at least _some_ way was almost too painful to bear. He realizes he’d take a lifetime of Johnny only talking to him about hockey than nothing at all. He emerges from the water, springing upward, gasping, and has his very own _Clueless_ moment, can practically see springs of water going up behind him. “I love Johnny!” he shouts, unable to stop himself, the words like a punch to his gut.

And then he freezes, and goes cold all over, because, “ _Fuck_ , I love Johnny. “

He showers afterwards in a near-daze. The thing is, he always knew maybe there was something there, somewhere. He just -- didn’t really care to analyze it. He was young and he liked sex and drinking and mostly just did it with girls because it was easier and guys had to be some sorta super secret arranged thing because his mother seriously wasn’t wrong that everyone had an iPhone these days. His manager knew about him because full disclosure and all that, but that knowledge also came with the warning that she wasn’t interested in repping the first major out hockey star.

There was a moment, once, years ago when it seemed maybe something would happen. They were young and Johnny had been irresponsible for once, and they’d gotten high together and gone to Wicker Park and lain down on the grass and just let the fact that they were here, doing this, wash over him. When he’d turned to look at Johnny, there’d been an expression he’d never quite forgotten and Johnny had started to move in a little and then cleared his throat and mumbled, “I’m really fucking stoned,” and that had been that.

Sometimes Patrick caught glimpses of that look again. Particularly in the days after the Cup. So yeah, maybe at one point Johnny had been where Patrick was currently, at least partially, but he certainly wasn’t there now. And maybe Patrick’s been a dick for pretending to be completely blind to it, but it was this exact situation that he’d wanted to avoid. Because, as he expected, being in love with Johnny _sucks_. He feels sick to his stomach yet happy at all once and all he wants to do is fucking fly to Winnipeg and tell him that his face is his most favorite thing in the entire world.

Instead, he accepts a dinner invitation from his mom and tries to re-bond with his sisters which isn’t exactly going as smoothly as he’d hoped, particularly with Jackie who has a lot of feelings about strong women who don’t take shit from “douchebags” like Patrick. Erica and Jessica, meanwhile, have been harping on his nerve to want them to stay away from certain types of guys when he’s apparently just that type. He hasn’t had any easy answers for them, is the thing. He knows he’s a fuck-up, he knows when he goes out he feels like he’s invincible and stops thinking of the way people should be treated and mostly how he can get what he wants.

They end up playing a game of Music Trivial Pursuit together and if it lacks some of the aggressiveness of their prior games, Patrick tries not to let it bother him. Halfway through the game he figures they’re still his sisters and he needs to tell someone so he blurts out “I love Johnny” for the second time in a few hours. Erica stares at him, Jessica laughs, and Jackie says, “But you’re a man-whore!”

Patrick winces and waits for some other kind of feedback. Finally Erica says, “You really have shit timing, Pat.”

Doesn’t he know it.  
_________________________

It turns out the way to get his sisters more than merely tolerating him is expressing the potential desire to, like, settle down or some shit like that. Which is a terrifying thought but he assumes it must be implied as he would never attempt a casual thing with Johnny, not after all this time. He tells them the state of his and Johnny’s relationship right now and they break out their magazines and the internet for help. There’s really no exact scenario for “person A was a fucktard, publicly disgraced himself and his Original Six hockey club and needs to make it up to person B” so they look at cheating scenarios which are apparently the closest parallel here.

Everything says that trust needs to be rebuilt and some grand gesture type thing should occur to prove to person B things won’t be the same if they take back person A, who will have learned from their mistakes and all that shit.

Patrick has no idea where to begin.  
_____________________

He hasn’t made any progress the following week. He and Johnny have been exchanging light, low level text messages. He even made Johnny ‘lol’ at one point which he takes to be the crowning achievement of his summer thus far.

Their contact is still sporadic at best and Johnny is being almost tentative with him. Their dynamic is certainly not the same and Patrick wonders if this is what people mean when they say, “let’s start over.”

Patrick’s being tentative too. He’s afraid to even insult Johnny, even though it’s normal for them, simply because he feels the response back could be something along the lines of, “we’re fucking done.”

Johnny texts him Friday with _You still going to the convention?_

Patrick tries not to get his hopes up with the line of questioning; it’s the first time Johnny’s brought up anything that would involve them seeing each other.

_far as i know. haven’t been cordially disinvited yet_ , he replies, willing his pulse to stop racing.

_Okay. Shawsy’s birthday is that weekend. He apparently wants to have a big bash._

Patrick winces. He wonders if a lecture is about to come and decides to stave it off.

_wasn’t planning on going out much, but i’ll show up for shawsy._

_I don’t care if you go, Kaner. That’s not... I might not be, though._

Patrick frowns, heart sinking. Was this Johnny’s way of saying he can’t even be sociable with him?

_Well, fuck_ , Patrick thinks and is just about to start typing when his phone buzzes in his hand.

_He wants to have it at Club Paris and I’d rather not run into Linz._

Oh. _Oh_. Patrick lets out a breath and starts to type.

_Why not?_

_We went on a date over the summer but then she apparently went online and started saying she was my girlfriend._

Kaner feels slightly guilty that he already knows about this date when he shouldn’t.

_You’re not interested?_

He knows he’s pushing, but he can’t help it. Besides, if they’re starting over or some shit like that, then this can be part of their new dynamic; the one in which Patrick actually gives a shit about relationship (or non-relationship) bullshit.

_Did you miss the part about her babbling to the internet? You know how I feel about privacy. Anyway, I have unresolved issues elsewhere._

Patrick wants to push that issue, too, but he knows he’ll get ignored or shot down. This is the most forthcoming Johnny has been with him in a while and he needs to tread lightly. Still, he feels jealousy flare in his belly.

_well, you shouldn’t miss shawsy’s party just because of that._

_I’ll think about it_ , Johnny writes back.

Over the next few days, Patrick tries to figure out the probability of those ‘unresolved issues’ being about him. He’s leaning towards no, but Erica says yes. It doesn’t make sense in the timeframe, though. By that point, Johnny was already writing him off. He seemed to be having a fabulous, carefree time. He didn’t look like someone who was going through any type of stress over his supposed best friend who he maybe possibly had feelings for. No, Patrick is sure whatever issues or feelings Johnny was having then, with regard to him, were pretty clearly and definitively resolved.

Patrick texts Shawsy that Club Paris is getting kinda old and maybe he should aim for someplace cooler while Jackie and Jessica decide to make it their mission to watch old interviews with the two of them to try and get a clue as to how to win Johnny’s heart. Besides Patrick, you know, not being a self-destructive loser, their words.

Jackie’s assessment isn’t completely helpful: “He loves to pull your pigtails. Like, ridiculously so. And you always let it get to you. Your face gets pinched and you practically huff meanwhile he’s grinning at you like his face is about to explode from affection but you’re too pissy to realize it.”

“I don’t see how this helps with anything,” Patrick mumbles, but he does watch what she currently has paused. It’s one when they’re rookies, with those ridiculous DJ’s and yeah, that’s definitely Patrick [huffing](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v425/pablohoney279/kanertazer3.gif) and that’s definitely Johnny not being able to take his eyes off him, an almost tentative look on his face beyond his shining eyes, as if he’s waiting for Patrick to look back at him to show him he’s only joking.

“This was five years ago,” Patrick says, pointedly, when it’s over.

“He gets the proudest look on his face whenever he’s asked about you in post-games,” Jessica chimes in. “Especially if it was you doing something good. Sometimes he doesn’t have to be asked, he just mentions you.”

Patrick feels his chest constrict. He’d seen like, one of those in his spree to find model captain videos but he didn’t think --

“Really?” Patrick asks, quietly.

Jessica clasps his shoulder, making him raise his head. “Really, dickwad.”

He gets a text from Johnny as he leaves his parents’ house.

_did you make Shawsy move the party?_

_nah, just pointed out we’ve been there, done that._

There’s about five minutes of silence and Patrick’s nearly home when his phone sounds again.

_Thanks._

As far as grand gestures go, this was pretty amateur but he figures it’s a start.

_You’re welcome_ , he writes back after he’s killed the engine, feeling a small glimmer of hope.

Patrick knows what he has to do, then. Besides proving to Johnny he isn’t a walking PR disaster and generally horrible, immature human being, he needs to be epic this year. He needs to tear up the ice and be the kind of player he’d wished he was this past year. He needs to do it for himself, and he needs to do it for Johnny.

He needs to do it for _them_ , so there can still be a them.  
_____________________________

Patrick flies into Chicago the day before the convention. Johnny’s apparently coming in Friday morning.

He has dinner at Sharpy’s house and feels slightly awkward. Abby’s being nothing but gracious yet it’s still strange when your stupid escapades are well known, especially to people you want to impress.

He and Sharpy sit out back where Sharpy hands him cigars he’s had since the baby was born while Abby and Madelyn hang inside.

“She hate me?” Patrick asks, nodding backwards towards the house.

“Nah. Think she feels sorry for you, though.”

_That’s almost worse_ , Patrick thinks.

They smoke in silence until Sharpy says, “What’s the deal with you and Toes?”

Patrick’s head whips around to face him. “Huh? Thought you said he’s said nothing to you.”

Sharpy shrugs. “He started texting me a few weeks ago. Wondering what I really thought of everything.”

Patrick’s fingers tap nervously against his leg. “What’d you say?”

Sharpy looks at him, face serious. Patrick’s not used to seeing him like that. “I told him I think you act like a kid a lot, and you need some sense knocked into you. And that it’s not an excuse but lots of people do stupid shit when they’re drunk.”

Patrick nods, ducking his head and mumbling, “Sounds like an excuse.”

“Yeah, well, he probably thought so too.”

Patrick looks back up at him. “What else did he say?”

Sharpy searches his face to the point that Patrick feels uncomfortable before responding. “He said you confuse him. And then I haven’t heard from him since.”

Patrick bites his lip, feeling queasy.

“So I repeat: What’s going on with you and Toes?”

“I don’t really know,” Patrick says, honestly.

____________________________

Patrick’s already basically said hello to everyone and received his fair share of ribbing, which stings more than he thought it would, before Johnny’s even arrived. He sees him walk into the main room, looking around like he’s lost and shaking some hands, giving some hugs. Then his eyes settle on Patrick and widen a little. Patrick’s mouth runs dry and he swallows hard, willing his feet to move.

They stand awkwardly in front of one another. By now, they would have been hugging, a back slapping guyish hug. Patrick might’ve whispered in Johnny’s ear that he looks like shit and Johnny might have tried some horrible comeback that failed halfway through.

Instead, they just keep looking at one another until Johnny says, “Hey,” and proceeds to shove at Patrick’s shoulder with his knuckles, barely even grazing him. It’s by far the most awkward contact they’ve ever had.

“Hey,” Patrick says.

By now, Johnny would have said that Patrick looks so damn pale and can’t tan for shit and Patrick would have said that at least there are real summers where he lives and it’s his choice if he wishes to use the sun or not.

He notices Johnny’s eyes lingering on his upper arms and stands a little taller.

“You look good,” Johnny says, nodding at him. He sounds awkward and uncomfortable, but Patrick will take it.

Old Patrick would say, “Wish I could say the same about you, man,” but this Patrick says, “So do you.” Because god, Johnny does; tan and relaxed and he wants to run his fingers through Johnny’s hair so badly he might die. Patrick rubs his fingers into his palms, wishing he had something to do with his hands.

Then Seabs bounds up to them, grabbing Johnny and Johnny laughs and hugs him, congratulating him again on his nuptials.

Patrick walks off to find Sharpy but looks behind him as he goes and finds Johnny looking back over Seabs’ shoulder.

The con isn’t as eventful as it could have been and while he does have to dodge and laugh off a few awkward questions, he still survives. He does notice Johnny’s pinched face during those moments, though, and Patrick would very much like to crawl in a hole. He’d love to live in a world where Johnny didn’t have a constant reminder of Patrick’s epic failure as a human being but he supposes that’s too much to ask for. Moreover, it makes his challenge all the more difficult.

Patrick only has one beer at Shawsy’s party and one shot, which he hadn’t been planning on but birthday shots were mandatory, as per Hayesy and Patrick doesn’t want to disappoint. Johnny eyes him curiously a few times during the evening, before sliding over to a couch Patrick is sitting on.

“You don’t have to be on your best behavior because of me, if that’s what you’re doing.”

Patrick glares at him, suddenly annoyed. “Fuck you, I haven’t drunk in nearly two months. You’d know that if you--” Patrick cuts himself off because, dammit, this isn’t the way to fix things but this tentative, polite bubble they’re in is bound to pop sometime. It just isn’t them.

“If I’d what?” Johnny says in his ear, quietly, nearly drowned out by the music.

Patrick turns to him, sharply. “If you’d cared to know what was going on with me,” he says hotly, grinding his teeth.

Johnny jerks back a little, as if hit. He looks at Patrick for a moment before saying, “I always care. Even when I wish I didn’t.”

Patrick blinks at him, surprised. Johnny’s only had about two beers and a shot or two. He’s definitely not drunk, and yet Patrick wouldn’t have expected this kind of candor right now -- not with the current state of their relationship, anyway.

“I miss you,” Patrick says, because if they’re being candid, then fuck, he’s gonna put himself out there.

Johnny smiles at him, sadly. “I miss you too, buddy. But I need some more time.”

Patrick nods, feeling defeated. Normally, he’d revel in Johnny calling him ‘buddy,’ especially now, but all it’s done is emphasize that even if they get back to where they were, friendship might be the only offer on the table.

Johnny slinks off to hang out with Duncs and Patrick pulls out his phone, texting all three of his sisters at once.

_should i tell johnny i love him?_

The three of them text him back right away, all with a variation of “what’s he been saying?”

So Patrick tells them; finally, after fifteen excruciating minutes of sitting on a couch and watching Johnny at the bar, Erica texts him back.

_we had to all discuss this together and basically you either play it cool and see what happens or you lay the cards on the table, Pat. He may feel like you’re forcing his hand, but he’s kind of treating this like a romantic relationship so maybe it’s time you tell him what you ultimately want._

Patrick’s off the couch as soon as he reads the last word, finding Johnny up against the wall near the bathroom, nursing his beer slowly.

“Hey, can we talk outside?”

Johnny eyes him skeptically but pushes off the wall and Patrick lead them to the smaller balcony that can actually only fit a few people. He closes the sliding glass door behind them, drowning out the music.

“What’s up?” Johnny asks, looking out at the skyline briefly before turning sideways toward Patrick.

“I just. There’s something I want to say.”

Johnny nods, encouragingly.

“Okay, uh.” He could really use some liquid courage right now.

“I love you,” he says, feeling the words roll off his tongue and immediately regretting this whole thing.

Johnny’s eyes go soft around the edge for a millisecond, his lips curling before he shakes it off. “I love you too, buddy,” he says, casually, almost placating. “That’s not--”

“No,” Patrick interrupts, feeling frantic. “Johnny, I’m. I’m in love with you.”

Johnny laughs once, sharply, looking at Patrick like he’s insane. “Oh, sure, okay,” he says, like Patrick is Bur and Sharpy pulling a prank on him.

Patrick stares at him, unblinkingly. Johnny sobers, then, looking stricken.

“You’re—are you fucking serious?”

Patrick nods, not trusting his voice. He watches Johnny’s eyes flash, sees his hands clench the railing, clenching his fingers before casting his eyes downward.

“Fuck you,” he says tightly, controlled.

Patrick blinks and then Johnny looks up at him again, perfect face and hair and everything Patrick now knows he wants, but seeing no warmth in his eyes. “Fuck you, Patrick, you can’t. You can’t fucking _do_ that. I tell you I need space and you fucking… Since when do you _love_ me, anyway?”

“I guess I’m a little slow,” Patrick says, not looking away from Johnny’s face, which is still brimming with anger. “Guess I have my answer, too, so that’s--”

Johnny laughs but it’s a bitter sound. “You think so, eh? Patrick, I’ve fucking loved you forever.”

Patrick’s heart stops. Then it sinks like a stone when Johnny continues, “But I don’t know how much I like you right now.”

Patrick licks his suddenly dry lips. “Oh.”

Johnny runs his fingers through his hair, anxiously. “That’s what I’m trying to deal with, okay? Having… deeper feelings for someone I just – don’t feel very fond of right now. You kind of can’t – help who you fall in love with, you know?” Johnny shrugs his shoulders awkwardly as he says the words and Patrick knows because yeah, he fucking knows. He also can’t believe that Johnny actually does love him, the rest notwithstanding.

“I’m – just give me a chance, man, okay? I’ve changed.”

Johnny shakes his head resolutely. “People don’t change in two months, Kaner.”

Patrick snaps then. “They do when they realize they could lose everything they’ve taken for granted in the past!”

Johnny’s lips part as he sucks in a surprised breath, eyes widening a little. His grip on the balcony eases. “You’re…” he starts, softly. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? About us?”

Patrick feels his chest loosen. “Yeah, man.”

Johnny nods and then stares at his feet for a little while. “I still need some space.”

“No, I know,” he says, because really, he didn’t expect it to magically solve everything. He hopes it’s a start though. “I just – thought you should know.”

“Thank you,” Johnny says. He sounds like he means it.

The rest of the summer passes without much contact from Johnny, but really, he didn’t expect anything different. Patrick works out, hangs out with his sisters, works out some more, and when training camp starts he feels more ready than he ever has. Q tells him he looks great. Johnny does too, and Patrick possibly beams at the praise, feeling proud in ways he hasn’t for far too long. Q practices him at both center and wing. The few pre-season games he and Johnny play, and together at that, he’s on center but come opening night he’s back on Johnny’s wing like old times and they connect. Patrick scores and he’s forgotten how much he loves the feel of Johnny grabbing him tightly, twirling him into a hug while yelling “Yeah!” in his ear.

Johnny’s super excited about the game against Winnipeg and hasn’t stopped talking about it to anyone and everyone.

Normally Patrick would rib him about it but he honestly doesn’t have the heart. Plus he wants Johnny to like him again and shit and insulting Winterpeg probably isn’t the best course of action.

They arrive at the hotel and Johnny immediately gets on the phone, talking French to his mom while Patrick tries desperately not to get hard. He supposes it’s a good sign that Johnny didn’t request any sort of rooming change despite his desire for space. He also chalks it up as a win that Johnny has been nothing if not professional since the start of training camp. No residual weirdness of two best friends who kind of aren’t best friends right now, yet declared their love for each other, shining through at all.

When Johnny gets off the phone he looks constipated.

“Did someone run over a buffalo?”

He can’t help it, he has to get in at least _one_ dig.

Johnny rolls his eyes but Patrick totally sees his lips twitch. “My mom’s invited you to dinner after the game.”

“Oh,” Patrick says dumbly. “I don’t have to go.”

Johnny shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. If you want to. I haven’t really talked to them about,” he waves a hand between them, “any of this."

“Okay. Well. I’ll go, then.”

Johnny nods, once, and starts unpacking.

They win, and it seems like half the crowd is cheering for Johnny, who naturally scored two goals. Patrick has to wait around extra long this time before Johnny finishes up with the media frenzy. He ends up with Johnny’s parents in the hotel lobby, making idle small talk while all he can think of is how he wants to bang their son and perhaps he should be stating his intentions or something.

Then again, if either of them is watching Patrick when Johnny walks up, looking perfect in a post-game suit with freshly showered hair, well, then they probably already know because Patrick is pretty sure he appears as smitten as he feels.

Johnny’s eyes cut to his briefly and he registers a hint of surprise before Johnny is hugging his parents as they congratulate him.

Dinner is nice and relaxing and maybe Patrick looks at Johnny a little too often but Johnny’s sort of looking back too, just brief glances that set Patrick on fire after each, particularly when Johnny licks his lips at one point. It’s an utterly subconscious move but it still makes Patrick’s dick leap. He can’t believe he has to room with this guy later.

Patrick’s favorite part of the evening, though, is when he’s telling a story about his sisters to Johnny’s parents and when he looks over he catches the tail-end of Johnny’s fond expression. It makes his heart soar.

_______________________

Patrick’s on fire at the start of the season and Johnny’s right there with him. More importantly, Patrick’s actually scoring goals and while Johnny would say it isn’t about that, it’s about the team, Patrick still thinks he has the right to feel pretty damn good. Especially since the team is winning for the most part, too.

Patrick starts watching Johnny’s post-games. A lot of times he has to sneak them after the game or in the morning, when they’re on the road. There’s a lot of questions about him, comparisons to last year, the summer, insinuating that he can’t pull his weight as a center and that’s why he’s back on wing. Johnny’s full of nothing but praise, though. Sometimes he gets a dreamy far away look before answering and Patrick compares it to an interview at the start of last season that Jessica had sent him. Johnny then starts doing that thing again where he randomly brings up Patrick’s play, how they got the two points and “you know, Kaner enjoyed that last minute goal there to secure it,” or “yeah, also Kaner had fun in the shootout, as always, sure you saw that.”

His voice is beyond fond. Basically, it’s like a love letter right on the screen and Patrick loves watching them but still has to wonder what, if anything, it might all mean since they’re still status quo.

One night Johnny asks him what he’s doing when he has his headphones on and Patrick mumbles “porn” to which Johnny snorts and goes back to his fishing magazine, ankles crossed on the bed, clad only in a t-shirt and briefs. The entire thing _is_ like porn and Patrick’s life is just so fucking hard, okay. He takes off the headphones a few minutes later and Johnny raises an eyebrow. “That was the shortest porno in history.”

“Xtube,” Patrick shrugs. Then he goes into the bathroom to absolutely not jerk off in the shower to the way Johnny looked tonight when he said “Kaner, you know – he’s playing with an intensity I personally haven’t seen in a while. I don’t think anyone should ever doubt his commitment or dedication. He’s essential to our team.”

__________________________

Patrick’s limiting himself to about two or three beers a week and only on off-days. He and Johnny still aren’t at the point where they’re hanging out socially outside of the team and so Patrick’s taken to going out with some of the rookies. They notice the change in him, though -- notice he isn’t overtly flirting with everything that moves, isn’t trying to stick out like a sore thumb but rather blend in, play things cool. It's not like he's been living like a nun or anything these past few months. After all, he smokes up at his apartment still, and watches porn and alright, so he hasn’t really felt like going out and getting laid but he guesses maybe that’s what happens when you fall in love for real. So, no, he still wants to have fun and shit, he just no longer wants to be expected to act like a stupid frat boy when he does it.

Basically, he’s getting over himself -- it took a while to get to this point but when you get terrified you’ve fucked up the best thing in your life and could end up in Columbus of all places, without your best friend, well --- maybe your body just kicks the maturity into overdrive. Patrick tries to be a good role model for the rookies, both on and off the ice, now. He knows you can’t just wipe a slate clean and while Shawsy definitely looks at him skeptically with raised eyebrows after he kills it after two beers when they go out, he also knows the guy doesn’t like him any less because of it.

The thing Patrick comes to realize after the first month of regular season is in the bag (and he has 14 points in 8 games, thank you very much) is he would’ve been doing this even if Johnny had shot him down after his Massive Declaration of Love. Sure, he wants him and Johnny to get back to where they were and even beyond that, but he’s acutely aware this isn’t just about getting in Johnny’s pants (although yes, he wants in those badly). Something had to give over the summer -- he was at a turning point where he could fall further back or step forward and prove to himself, and others, that he’s not someone to write off yet. Patrick still beats himself up over the whole thing, nearly cringes in front of the media sometimes. Most of the time he wishes for a rewind button. He considers that maybe Johnny was right -- maybe some things happened for a reason but it’s still hard to swallow. Either way, he feels like he’s changing for the better - for him - and if that gets him Johnny in the process, well, it’d be like winning the President’s Trophy and the Stanley Cup in one season.

So naturally, Johnny decides to call him on everything while they’re on the road in early November and Patrick’s turned down a second invitation in a row to go out (which _Johnny_ didn’t even take up, mind you).

“What the fuck are you doing, Kaner?” Johnny snaps, pacing around the room like a caged animal.

Patrick looks up guilelessly from the bed, where he’s already undressed. “What?”

“This whole thing – Patrick Kane Model Citizen – is it just--”Johnny sighs, scratching at the back of his head (he finally cut his hair a few weeks ago; Patrick had wanted to hold a memorial service).

“Are you just being on your best behavior until I say yes to this or that and then – then you’re right back at it again?”

Patrick gets off the bed, anger building, and walks toward him. Johnny, however, looks almost defeated now -- like he’s just been waiting for the other shoe to drop the whole time, afraid to let Patrick in, to be disappointed again.

“I mean this,” Patrick says, softly, anger suddenly flooding out of him. Johnny looks at him, searching his face.

Patrick takes another step closer. “It’s been, what? Five months now? Johnny, seriously, I mean this.”

He reaches out, pauses, and then gives in to touching Johnny’s cheek lightly. He feels Johnny shudder with breath anyway, and then stare down at him with raw intensity. “You’ve been great, you know. Out there.”

Patrick smiles with a cockiness he doesn’t totally feel right now. “Well, yeah, _duh_. I’m awesome.”

“You’ve been great in general,” Johnny says, seriously, ignoring the bravado he clearly saw right through.

Patrick swallows thickly, choking down his surprise, and skims his fingers along Johnny’s jawline.

“Kinda haven’t wanted to let myself believe it,” Johnny says, quietly, and Patrick thinks of his sisters and their stupid articles about rebuilding trust. He gets it, and more importantly, it’s looking like they’re finally there.

When Johnny licks his lips, Patrick thinks something is going to happen and his breath catches in his throat but then Johnny coughs and backs away.

“Let me take you out tomorrow.” His voice is a little thick and it makes Patrick’s mouth run dry.

“Huh?”

Johnny glares at him, impatiently. “This is how I’d do this, if I were going to do it.”

Patrick’s heart jerks. “And you’re going to do it?”

Johnny’s lips form a downright evil grin. “Maybe. Let’s go to bed.”

Patrick raises his eyebrow in an undoubtedly sleazy way and Johnny shoves him to his own bed. “Alone, douche.”

“You’re a big meanie,” he mumbles, crawling into bed.

Johnny laughs and Patrick’s really missed that sound.

_____________________________

It’s a Friday when they get in and they don’t have a game until Sunday. Johnny says to be ready at 6:30 pm and he’ll pick him up. Patrick chooses dress pants and a button down shirt because Johnny probably has something ridiculously romantic planned but when he opens the door he’s greeted by the sight of Johnny in jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeved plaid shirt. He’s carrying a jacket. His lips twitch as he takes in Patrick’s attire but there’s definitely a flash of heat in his eyes, too.

“As much as I appreciate this,” he says, waving at Patrick’s clothing, “it’s probably best suited for later.”

“What’s later?”

Johnny’s eyes twinkle. “I’ll never tell. Go change.”

Patrick rolls his eyes and walks away huffing, yet feeling stupidly excited.

He comes back with jeans and a striped button down shirt. “Better?” he asks, with mock-annoyance.

“Perfect,” Johnny says, happily, straightening Patrick’s collar. Patrick doesn’t mind, though. In fact, he might even love it. “Better grab a jacket, though,” he adds, eyes sparkling.

They talk about the season and the team on the ride to wherever they’re going. It’s comfortable and Patrick realizes it always is, between them.

Johnny drives them to Lucky Strike Lanes and Patrick raises his eyebrows.

“I rented it out.”

Patrick nods, not trusting his voice, mind racing. There’s a few employees there, to run the lane, get them set up with drinks and whatnot. And then they’re pretty much alone. When they start bowling, Patrick can’t hold it in anymore.

“I have a confession.”

Johnny turns to him. “Oh?’

Patrick takes a deep breath. “I sort of internet stalked you. When you weren’t speaking to me. So I saw your go-karting date.”

Johnny’s face goes tight and pinched-looking. “Please don’t do that anymore, okay? You know I don’t like that shit.”

“I know. I was just feeling out of the loop, man.”

Johnny nods, once, and then sighs, shoulders dropping as he exhales. “So, what about it?”

Patrick shifts, the bowling ball feeling extra heavy in his hands.

“So, just. You took her go-karting, you’re taking me bowling... It shouldn’t, like, bother me or anything--”

Johnny laughs and shakes his head. “Pat, you. Look, I took her go-karting because that’s the type of silly shit I’d like to be able to do with someone I really like -- I guess it was sort of a test to see if I really did or not. She'd wanted to go out for a while so, figured I'd try it."

“Oh,” Patrick says, dumbly.

Johnny gets an uncomfortable look on his face. “But it all kind of just made me realize it would have been better with you. You would’ve laughed in my face at my stupid gear and been competitive and shit. Kinda messed me up at the time, given everything that was going on."

“Not messed up anymore, though?” Patrick asks, hoping he doesn't sound as desperate as he feels.

“Nah, not really,” Johnny says.

Patrick smiles, feels like he can breath a little easier. “So, speaking of being competitive...” and then they continue an epic game of bowling which has Patrick beating him, but only barely.

“I let you win,” Johnny says.

Patrick shoves at him. “Keep telling yourself that, Toews.”

They play pool, which Johnny _does_ win, have one beer each and go back to bowling. They snack on some food and flirt a bit, okay, maybe a lot. As it turns out, his sisters were correct yet again. Because flirting for Johnny translates into pigtail pulling and trash talking but with a softness in his eyes and a near starry-eyed expression that Patrick now knows to look for. It escalates to the point where Patrick longs to ask if they can make out in one of the lanes, but restrains himself.

A few hours later Johnny informs him it’s time for the second part of the evening. He slaps Patrick on the shoulder when he throws him a lecherous look at the words.

“Come on, dummy,” Johnny says and then drives them to Burnham Harbor.

“Uh...” Patrick says as they get out of the car.

“Come on,” Johnny says, urgently, taking his hand and -- oh.

Patrick’s heart sort of jerks and flips and then he squeezes back. Johnny looks at him out of the corner of his eye and Patrick can see a pleased expression on his face.

Johnny lets go of his hand as they approach a small, private  
[yacht](http://www.yachtparties.com/gallery/sunseac.jpg). The captain - or whatever - greets them. _This is ridiculous_ , Patrick thinks.

When in the cabin, Patrick takes in the [salon](http://www.yachtparties.com/images/gallery/Main-Salon.jpg) area with two very nice sofas, the sit-down [bar](http://www.yachtparties.com/gallery/pic04bar.jpg), the formal [dining](http://www.yachtparties.com/gallery/pic05below.jpg) area and when the captain leaves he says it out loud. “This is ridiculous.”

Leave it to Jonathan Toews to charter a private yacht on Lake Michigan on a first date.

Johnny shrugs, impassively. “This is me.”

Patrick laughs. “What, an utter contrast on the same date?”

“Wanted to show you both sides of me,” Johnny says, sounding rather earnest.

Patrick just rolls his eyes. “Yeah dude, you’re really scaring me here -- I mean, talk about shocking revelations -- wait, you’re totally gonna make me go fishing with you and your dad, aren’t you? Now that you’ve got me on a boat.”

Johnny grins, evilly. “For sure.”

Patrick shakes his head, amused, and looks around some more. There’s champagne in a bucket on the bar, a cheese and fruit platter, and (good god) chocolate covered strawberries. It's obvious Johnny used his star status to arrange this entire evening on such short notice. It's kind of endearing in its outlandishness.

Patrick’s eyes travel back to Johnny only to find he’s being watched with a tender expression.

“So you’re a dork and a romantic. I already knew this, Johnny.”

“Good, because I know your sides, too.”

Patrick nods slowly, waiting.

“I’m not -- I’m not waiting for something to go wrong again. I’m not expecting you to fuck up. It’s important you know that.”

Patrick licks his dry lips. “Good. Because I don’t really plan on it, if I can help it.”

Johnny steps closer, and then takes his hand just as the boat’s engine gears up. “So do me a favor, then?”

He shivers when Johnny’s fingers caress the back of his hand. He vaguely hopes the next move will be something straight out of a porno in which he’s tugged to his knees. Naturally, though, it doesn’t happen that way and Johnny says, eyes serious and captain-like, “Stop beating yourself up now, okay?”

Patrick lets out a sharp breath and nods, shakily, tears inexplicably prickling in his eyes.

Johnny tugs him forward and then they’re hugging.

“You’re doing good, okay? I’m proud of you. Just let it go, now.”

And then maybe Patrick does cry a little but Johnny can’t prove it and more importantly, he looks away when Patrick rubs his hands over his face as they separate.

“Okay,” Patrick croaks out.

Johnny kisses his temple and Patrick leans into the touch. Then they sit at the bar, picking at the fruit and cheese platter and watching the lights across the water from the windows. After a little while they take the champagne and chocolate covered strawberries up to the [”fly-bridge”](http://www.yachtparties.com/images/gallery/Fly-Bridge.jpg), according to Johnny. Patrick grumbles that it’s going to be too cold but Johnny, being the stoically Canadian dork he is, just shrugs and says, “I’ll warm you up.” His voice is low and flirty and Patrick definitely isn’t thinking about weather anymore.

They lounge against each other, Johnny’s arm thrown casually around his shoulders, and gazing out at the water. They take in the incredible view of the city, their city, while Johnny feeds him a strawberry because he’s ridiculous like that, and then laughs and points when Patrick has chocolate on the corners of his mouth. Patrick watches as Johnny looks at him with something like love in his eyes and then Patrick remembers that’s exactly what it is, and fuck, it’s all kind of perfect -- as sappy as that is to actually admit.  
_____________________________

By the time they’re off the boat, Patrick is acutely aware they haven’t kissed yet and he’s starting to doubt it’s actually going to happen. Maybe Johnny was leading them down some Victorian romance road, but then Patrick remembers he did actually sleep with people like Lindsay (arguably) and Gabby. And then there was that male dancer Patrick had wanted to murder, and of course Oshie but that’s a whole different level of rage and jealousy and Patrick is having a damn nice night so he’d rather not go there right now.

Johnny pulls into Patrick’s parking garage and hovers with his hand over the ignition, then kills the engine. They don’t talk on the way up the elevator and it’s starting to feel a little strange but Patrick tries to shake it off. It’s only awkward if they let it be so, anyway.

“This was a really great night,” Patrick says, because seriously, it was.

Johnny smiles at him, eyes shining with pride. “Yeah, it was.”

“Thank you,” Patrick adds, because his mother raised him right.

Johnny’s smile widens, as if he knows what Patrick’s thinking. “You’re welcome, Patrick.”

When Patrick gets to his door, he turns to Johnny who’s lagging a few steps behind. “You wanna come in?” he asks, trying not to sound too hopeful but not too casual either.

“I don’t get nervous,” Johnny says, suddenly, any trace of an earlier smile now gone.

Patrick frowns. “Okay...”

Johnny takes a step closer and Patrick swallows hard, his back against the door.

“It’s. It doesn’t usually happen to me but you -- _this_ ,” he waves at the small space between their bodies, “scares the shit out of me.”

“It’s just us, man.”

Johnny shakes his head. “It’s not, though. I don’t want us to fuck this up completely.”

“Johnny,” Patrick says, slowly, raising his hands to Johnny’s shoulders. “It’s us, okay? Which we’ve _already_ fucked up but put back together, right? This is just, adding orgasms to the equation.”

Johnny huffs out a laugh and Patrick tightens his hands on Johnny’s shoulders, meeting his eyes. “There will be orgasms, right? Please say yes.” He finishes on a grin and then Johnny’s grinning back, shaking his head in fond exasperation.

Johnny presses his forehead against Patrick’s and his breath catches. “Oh, jeez, did I miss you,” Johnny says, warmly.

Patrick beams, closing his eyes.

"You know I don't want something casual, right?" Johnny says after a moment of silence, sounding tentative.

"Duh," Patrick says without heat.

He can feel Johnny staring at him, and opens his eyes, their faces only inches apart.

"And you're okay with that?"

"Told you before, I mean this. All of it."

Johnny smiles and Patrick listens as his body exhales, like this has been something pressing him down, worrying, and now finally lifting.

"I'm yours," Patrick adds, just in case it wasn't abundantly clear yet.

Johnny lets out a sound that's a cross between a gasp and moan and then Patrick watches as his eyes crinkle and his lips curve upward even wider.

They breathe together for a beat, foreheads pressed together, and then Johnny’s hands slide up Patrick’s arm, around to the back of his neck, holding Patrick in place before shallowly pressing their lips together.

Patrick sucks in a breath and kisses back, applying the slightest hint of pressure. Johnny keeps it almost chaste, their heads still resting against one another, but Patrick’s breathing hard already, like he just did a shift and Johnny’s puffs against his lips aren’t exactly even themselves.

Patrick decides to let Johnny dictate the pace, at least for now, and nearly sobs in relief when he finally steps in closer, kicking Patrick’s feet apart and pressing a firm hand to his jaw. Johnny kisses him with purpose and Patrick parts his lips. Johnny’s tongue drags along his bottom lip before dipping inside. Patrick sucks on it immediately and Johnny groans deeply, his hand finding Patrick’s hip.

They kiss, slowly, exploring each other’s mouths. Johnny’s hand tightens on Patrick’s hip and Patrick grips his shoulder harder. When Johnny breaks away to press hard, sure kisses to the corner of Patrick’s mouth, jaw, cheek, Patrick gasps out, “You wanna come in?”

He knows the only reason they’ve gotten this far out here is because Johnny knows Patrick’s the only penthouse on this floor, but he doesn’t want to push his luck.

“Yeah,” Johnny says, blindly, voice like sandpaper. He doesn’t stop, just drags his lips across Patrick’s face as if trying to memorize it.

Patrick refrains from pulling out the victory arms. After all, he’s going to be twenty-four in a few weeks and has a newfound maturity and all that jazz. When they step inside, though, it’s as if some of Johnny’s initial nervousness transferred over to Patrick.

He suddenly has no idea what to do as they stand in his living room. He kind of envisioned something along the lines of them stumbling through the door, groping each other and not breaking apart as they fell onto the couch, grinding against each other.

Patrick feels his face flush at the images and starts walking toward the kitchen. ‘You want a drink or--” his voice falters, he knows it, and he’s running his hand through his hair when Johnny says, “Just get over here, Patrick.”

Patrick sighs in relief because if Johnny isn’t feeling nervous or awkward anymore then they are go for launch, here.

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, making his way back across the room.

Johnny snorts and folds his arms across his chest, unimpressed. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Patrick grins obnoxiously, again saluting as he falls in line in front of Johnny.

Johnny groans. “I take it back; I didn’t miss you at all.”

Patrick smile widens. “You totally did. You realized how empty and dull your life would be without me and you couldn’t stand it.”

A look crosses Johnny’s face and his eyes soften considerably. “No comment.”

Patrick wants to say he’s already given himself away, because Johnny really does have the world’s worst poker face, but he’ll leave him to his delusions. There’s more important things to be doing, namely kissing.

Patrick takes one step closer, Johnny’s eyes dart to his lips before licking his own and then they’re right back at it. Maybe Patrick wasn’t too far off on that couch scenario because they’re certainly making their way towards it. Johnny falls onto it with an “ooph” and Patrick climbs right on, his legs on either side of Johnny’s thighs while Johnny bites at his chin, telling him he’s “fucking heavy.”

“Like you can’t take it,” Patrick says low, dirty.

Johnny tugs his lower lip into his mouth, making Patrick gasp before they’re kissing again, hot and deep and desperate in a way it wasn’t before. They grind together for a few glorious minutes, Patrick wanting to write love songs to the feel of Johnny’s erection against his own, before Johnny breathes out, “I know you have a big bed; let’s go there?”

“You got a problem with the couch, man?” Patrick says, steadier than he feels, rocking slowly against Johnny, mouth on his neck.

“More room on the bed,” Johnny gasps as Patrick drags his teeth along his neck. “Plus when we get there I don’t plan on us getting out until Sunday’s practice.”

Patrick’s entire body shudders and he has to think of his grandmother naked before he can calm down. “Uh... isn’t it optional?”

“Nice try, Kaner,” Johnny says, grin evident in his voice.

Patrick scrambles off the couch so fast he nearly topples over. Johnny gazes up at him in amusement.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Patrick demands, holding his hand out. Johnny looks down at it, and then takes it, letting Patrick haul him up.

“Nothing at all,” Johnny says softly, kissing him slow and deep, stealing Patrick’s breath in the process. Leave to Johnny to get all sentimental when orgasms were on the horizon but then again, Patrick wouldn’t have it any other way, wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

Later, when they’re barely breathing room apart in bed, still gasping into one another’s mouths, Patrick’s body shuddering while Johnny’s name continues to fall from his lips, Patrick thinks maybe it did all happen for a reason, like Johnny said. Maybe it was needed to get him, them, to this point. It was, at any rate, a learning experience and he’s come out stronger from it, better.

Patrick presses his face against Johnny’s neck, listens to him hum contentedly, and decides he no longer wants a rewind button.

**Author's Note:**

> The yacht company can be found [here](http://www.yachtparties.com) which can be rented for as few as two people. Lucky Strike, on the other hand, definitely would have cost Johnny a pretty penny to have them shut down :)


End file.
